A Parting Rose
by Sakura Lain
Summary: For eight years, they haven’t spoken to each other. A memory and a child constantly reminds of what could have been. And still a question remains…will they ever be reunited again? [AnnJack]
1. Never Forgetting

**Title: **"A Parting Rose"

**Rating:** PG (Might change depending on the circumstances)

**Summary: **For eight years, they haven't spoken to each other. A memory and a child constantly reminds of what could have been. And still a question remains…will they ever be reunited again?

**Chapter 1: Never Forgetting**

His olive-green eyes were amazing. They were simply beautiful orbs, just as beautiful as his untidy jet-black hair that hung over them. His physique was quite slim, his skin slightly tanned. His smile was always a precious thing to see, never to be missed, and even when it was gone there was that small smirk lingering upon his lips. He was the most beautiful thing in her life… he was enough reason to keep living through the harsh life that New York's depression presented to them. He was enough to keep her memories intact. She could not forget, not with him around. She could never forget. Their similarities were uncanny. With his presence around, how could she ever forget _him_? It was as though he was there to serve as a constant reminder of what she once had. Of what _they_ once had.

But that was all in the past now. She needed to focus on the present, on here and now, though she could not help but drift away sometimes into her thoughts, good and old, always reminding… never forgetting… and feeling oh so regretful. Eight years. It was too long, eight years. Eight years of being constantly reminded of her past. The object of her affection caused her this disarray. But she would never exchange him for anything else. Oh, she could never.

As much sadness as he may stir up in her, her son kept her intact. She fought relentlessly for new jobs in theatre for them. She needed to maintain the both of them. There weren't plenty job offerings—the film industry seemed to be taking over stage theatres now—but she somehow managed. She could always manage. She had been living the same life all her life. There was always a way. Their wages combined—for her son took part in a few small plays occasionally, whenever a child was needed—was enough to keep them alive, at least. And happy.

"Ma! Ma! Take a look at this!" Her son cut short all further thoughts of Ann as he flashed a newspaper clipping in front of her, looking thrilled. "It's a new play. They're still hiring actors, but take a look at this"—and he pointed towards big, bold letters under the same notice—"they're desperately looking for a female lead. You can do it, Mom, look at how much they'll pay if you do it!" Indeed the wage was quite a sum, and Ann knew that a wage like that could help pay off some of their expenses. Yet… her eyes landed on a particular name mentioned on the notice, and something caught in her throat. "Jack Driscoll," her son said happily, unaware of how she was taking it, "I hear he's quite a playwright!"

Ann felt a slight bit of anger towards the name in question. "I am not auditioning," she said dismissively and turned the paper away.

"Why not?" her son questioned. "It looks like it'll be a good play. And I know you can nail the part, Mom. You're good!"

"I am not auditioning, Kevin, and that's my final say."

He didn't understand. There was no way he could ever understand. She successfully had not made any contact with _him_ for eight years, and she was determined to keep it that way. But her eight-year-old son insisted. It seemed like quite a nice role to take. But not if it was written by him. She would not do it if he was involved. Not with him. Though deep inside of her she longed for that long-lost affection they once had, affection that she could only revisit in her memories from eight years before, she could still feel her bitter anger for him… the memory of a rose always welled up in her mind. That was enough to keep her away. She would not make the same mistake again. She was not surprised that it hadn't lasted for long, anyway. Good things never lasted, not for her. "Kevin, please fold that paper and put it away," she asked gently of her son.

The boy folded the paper in his hands, his face driven by disappointment as he looked down to the floor. He didn't move to put away the paper. Instead, he went on to say, "There's a part for a young boy in that play. They'll probably settle for a short middle-aged man, but I bet I can take the part." His eyes slowly turned upwards as he again looked at Ann, silently pleading her to let him go for the part. "I can convince them to, I'm good! I'll show 'em! If you won't go for the money, I will!"

Ann smiled hopelessly. He would be turning nine soon, only a couple months until then, but often he seemed to act much older than his present age. He was quite persistent, resolute. He knew their current financial situation, he worked alongside his mother in the theatre much of the time, and if not, he watched. He was witness to everything she did, including her dealing with financial matters. Ann was sad to say that much of his life was spent worrying about how much money they had, a little too much than a child his age should worry about.

She turned away from his eyes. "I'm sorry. But we're not taking part in that play. We'll find another one. I'm sure there are other theatres looking for several actors right now. We'll settle for others." Kevin had parted his lips, as though he were ready to protest, but then he remained silent and turned away, stashing the newspaper elsewhere. His eyes landed on a small sum of money placed upon their dining table and his eyes lowered.

"I wish Father were alive," he said quietly.

Ann did all she could to maintain her composure in front of her child. But God, how hard it was!

--

**Next up, we'll take a look at Jack Driscoll. Please review! I will greatly appreciate any feedback. I want to know if I'm doing things right and if you find anything wrong with either my writing, or characterization, or anything, please let me know! I would like to fix anything before I move on. I'm not a perfect writer, however, so please bear that in mind. I try. Also, I hope I didn't portray Ann as _too_ hopeless in this. I'm not sure if I did… but you also have to keep in mind that it has been eight years, and people can change a lot in eight years. Many things have happened since then. This is just the first chapter, so we'll see how it goes! I'll update soon!**

**- The Pocky Lover**


	2. Lost Inspiration

**Forgot to put a disclaimer in the last chapter, so here it goes...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything about King Kong. If I did, I wouldn't be writing FANfiction, would I?**

**Chapter 2: Lost Inspiration **

He paused, wracking his head in front of his typewriter. So far he had managed to write approximately two lines in his next act and it didn't seem like he would be able to come up with anything else to write for another hour. He was simply stuck… once more. He took a sip of his now cold coffee, accepting grim defeat. He wouldn't be able to overcome this writer's block, at least not now. And with his director breathing down his neck constantly, it made it harder to work under such tense conditions. He rubbed his temple, sighing as he placed his coffee cup on his desk and stared blankly at the two lines written on paper.

"In need of some inspiration, Jack?"

Jack nearly jumped from his seat as his director, Robert Thompson, made a loud entry into his apartment. He seriously needed to remember to lock that door more often. He leaned back on his chair, his tired eyes landing on Robert. "What are you doing here, Robert?" he asked quietly, though the answer was quite obvious.

"Checking up on my playwright and by God, you sound exhausted, Jack!" He took notice of the extra cups of cold coffee also taking up space on Jack's desk. "You look like a dead man! What a mess… what in the world have you been up to lately?"

Jack smiled in dry humor. "Trying to finish up that next act for you," he stated simply, placing his hands on the back of his head.

Robert strode over to Jack's typewriter, taking a glance at what the playwright had written so far. "Two lines…?" he stammered. "_Two lousy lines?_ Jack, I've had you working on that act for two days now! Surely you could've managed at least a whole page or two by now?"

"Yes I know. Look, I'm sorry, but I just haven't—"

"I don't care if you're feeling stuck right now, Jack, just do what you have to and get the whole damn play written by the end of next week. We can't get the actors to work on any scenes if the freakin' script isn't written yet! And opening night is fast approaching, we've only got two months to prepare until then, and the only written work we have is the first scene! So I suggest you _get writing_!"

"Done yet?" Jack asked bitterly.

Robert looked on the brink of a nervous breakdown, with his flushed face slowly turning purple. "Look, Jack, I'm doing you a favor here!" he lowered his voice, trying to sound calm. "I know these past few years haven't exactly been easy on you, what with all your plays not doing quite so well… well, to tell the truth, they've been a piece of shit, I don't know what happened to you…"

"Go on…" said Jack, crossing his arms.

"Don't be sarcastic with me, Jack. I know it's getting harder for you to find work with all your plays turning out to be written disasters lately. That's why I'm giving you a chance to write a _good_ play this time, to help bring back your good name! I know you have it in you to write a fantastic play, just like the old ones you used to write, but if you don't put forth your best effort, starting now, then there's nothing more I can do to help you."

"I never asked you to help me."

"Well, aren't I quite the nice fellow?" Robert spat.

Jack looked away in shame, knowing fully well that he was right. The man was giving him a chance, after all, when all other directors had finally turned their attention away from his plays. Robert Thompson was right; his plays were apparently 'written disasters.' They no longer held the brilliance and flair they once had, almost as if all inspiration for writing them was completely gone. As if there were no point to writing anymore… simply for the necessity of earning money in doing something that he could do. They felt so incomplete. A piece was missing. Something in Jack had been lost… and it hadn't just simply been the motivation to do what he had always loved to do. Something more…

The lost look on Jack's face puzzled Robert for a moment. He shrugged it off, however, and straightened himself. "Well! I hope I've managed to knock some sense into you, then. Have that play written for me by the end of the week. No, forget that. I'll be generous and give you a full three weeks to write it! That'll give you time to think up an amazing play for me, eh?" With one last nod, Robert left Jack's apartment, leaving the writer alone to dwell on his thoughts.

It was not that he wasn't aware of what was missing in his plays. He knew what he needed. _Who_ he needed. He was able to write a play, yes… but when _she_ was there, he felt inspired. To think, to give the play more thought, more laughter, more emotion. He had always felt then that she would stay with him, that she would always be by his side, further encouraging him to write more. But he had been wrong. It had not happened like so, and he could not manage to write the great and beautiful plays he could once write. He no longer _felt_ like writing them. The inspiration only a woman could give him was no longer there. And every time he settled down to write, he often asked himself _what for_?

He glanced at the bookshelf on his far right, his mind pondering on the thin, black box hidden behind the collection of books there. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes, and running his hands through his already disheveled hair. He wondered if she was just as miserable as he was. Or maybe not. After all, it was _she_ who left _him_. And he couldn't blame her. It had been his fault. He had been a fool. A coward. And he hated himself for it, for losing his chance. For losing her. She was probably doing much better than he was. She was probably married already and had children. The thought of her sharing a life with someone else brought a stab of pain to his heart. She no longer cared for him. Had forgotten him, even. In all these years, he would have thought he'd gotten over her. But it had not been so easy. He was more depressed than he had ever been in his life.

"I need a walk." He forced himself out of his seat and went to get a coat. Fall had arrived and it had begun to get windy outside. He looked at his typewriter as he straightened his coat on himself. He couldn't take it with him, but a pencil and paper, yes. Perhaps writing outside, in the park maybe, would help ease his writer's block of the moment and help him write his play.

**AN: Little bit of insight of Jack there. Now that I'm done providing some info on Ann and Jack's current lives, and I can finally get started on the main plot of the story. Note this is my first time doing an actual romance, so I hope I'm portraying (romantic) feelings right and I'm not doing anything wrong. I tend to get mushy and hold back, or want to overdo it, and whatever… anyway, it's my first shot at romance, so be gentle if you review!**


	3. The Audition

**A Parting Rose**

**Chapter 3: The Audition**

(Read previous chapter for disclaimer)

* * *

Kevin looked at the audition paper beneath his palm. The list of names of people interested in auditioning was not very long and apparently he was the only one auditioning for the part he wanted. No proud adult usually chose to play the part of a young teenager; they normally went for the more challenging, dramatic parts… the main roles, mostly. Yet the audition sign-ups were not over yet. Anyone else could audition for the same part he wanted after he left the theatre. He glanced around, making sure his hat covered up his eyes enough. He did not want to run into his mother, or their family friend Bonnie, or anyone else he knew would recognize him while he was out doing this without his mother's permission. But he had been determined to try out for the part regardless of what his mother said. 

He pressed the pen down on the paper and began to scribble down his full name: _Kevin J. Darrow_. He bit his bottom lip and reconsidered having put down his actual name. If his name showed up on the newspapers in the entertainment area, his mother would surely find his name out. Perhaps if he used a different last name…

"Hurry up, kid, we haven't got all day!" the elder man on the other side of the desk cried impatiently as he smoked a cigarette and blew the smoke toward the boy's face. "If you ask me, I think you're wasting your precious time. You're just a kid and I doubt you have hardly any talent in you. And if fame is what you're looking for, you won't get any out of one of Jack Driscoll's plays. They've been the shit lately." He blew another ring of smoke towards Kevin.

Kevin cringed in disgust and hurriedly scratched out the rest of his name so that only _Kevin_ showed. Then he dropped the pen and hurried out of the office before the man could ask any questions.

---

"Hurry up Jack, the audition's already started." Robert led Jack through the empty rows of seats and finally settled in the front row. Jack looked up at the stage to find a person already auditioning, being evaluated by the casting director. "We've already got the main roles, you know, but we still need cast members for the minor roles."

"What roles are left?"

"The butler, the whore, and… the son. But I doubt anyone's come to audition for that one, I clearly told Maggie that we were looking for a man of low stature and slim features… after all, the son is only a boy of ten." Robert nodded towards a boy that couldn't have been more than fifteen fixing the stage lights. "I've already told James over there to do the part otherwise. He ain't got much talent, but he's been working with the stage for weeks now and has memorized lines from watching. He'll do."

The casting director, Maggie, wrote a few things down on her clipboard and nodded towards the gray-haired man standing on stage. She was a woman in her early forties, the wrinkles only just beginning to show on her face, and she was wearing bright red lipstick, the only thing that drew attention to her pale face. "Mr. Thompson, we have ourselves a butler," she said, turning to Robert and Jack.

"And the whore?" Robert inquired.

"A Loren Smith nailed the part while you and Mr. Driscoll were on your way here," replied Maggie. "We only have the role of the son left."

Robert began to leave his seat, gesturing towards the boy at the lights. "James…"

"Mr. Thompson, we _have_ someone."

Robert stopped and looked back at Maggie, then at Jack, who simply shrugged. "Someone's come to audition?" he said, taken aback. He sat back down between Maggie and Jack and looked at the list of names on Maggie's lap. "A _Kevin_… well, put him on the stage already, let's get this over with!"

When the boy appeared on stage, even Jack was taken by surprise. He hadn't expected an actual child to audition for the role. He knew it would have been hard for the theatre to find an actual child for the role he created, knew it would not look realistic enough to have a fifteen year old take the role of a ten year old boy… but it hadn't really mattered to him what happened to the role. He had finished most of the script for Robert in a week but found that he wasn't that much interested in the play to begin with. He was mostly doing everything for Robert but he could care less what happened to his play. He knew it wasn't his best anyway.

The boy stood timidly on stage, as if waiting for the cue to begin. "So _you're_ Kevin, eh?" Kevin nodded to the director. "_Just_ Kevin? Don't you have a last name, boy?"

"It's just Kevin, sir."

Robert laughed at the incredulity of it. He looked at Jack to see if the playwright shared a similarly amused expression on his face, but Jack was serious. He had a hand on his face and was looking at the boy with a look that Robert could only interpret to be of tender curiosity. Robert chose to ignore him for now and turned back to the boy.

"How old are you?"

"Eight, sir."

Eight. Two years younger than the ten years the character had. But it was no matter. He still fit the part perfectly; he was tall and looked the age of ten so it wasn't much to worry about. What Robert did worry about, however, was if this young kid had the talent to act out a couple of scenes.

"Okay… you ready to start, then?" Robert clapped his hands together and leaned back in his seat.

"Oh yeah, sure," Kevin straightened up. He was just about to begin when---

"Wait---kid!" Robert sat up again. "Don't you need the script for your lines?"

Kevin shook his head proudly. "I've memorized them!" he said.

"All of 'em…?" Kevin nodded. "You've had just two days to prepare and you've memorized more than ten pages worth of lines?"

"Well, not all of them, see… I still have to finish the last couple of lines from the last act."

"What the---? What are you playing at, you can't possibly have---"

"Robert," and this time Jack spoke, head still resting on his hand. "Just let the boy start." Robert calmed down and took his seat again. No matter how many times Jack looked at his face, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The boy---Kevin---had a face remarkably familiar. Yet Jack couldn't quite figure it out; he was sure he had never met the boy before. And yet… Kevin took just one small fraction of a second to smile faintly at the frustrated director and then it hit him, like a bullet to the face. It was then that her face, her _smile_ flashed right in front of him for an infinitesimal moment and Jack froze in his seat. His heart skipped a beat. He could have sworn he saw Ann in that smile.

Both Robert and Maggie took no notice of the uneasiness the boy was giving to the playwright as they marveled at his obvious talent. Jack gave himself a moment to calm down, to face reality. It had only just been a moment that the boy had greatly reminded him of Ann, that didn't necessarily mean he was related to her at all. Jack's mind was just playing tricks on him---it would make sense, he had done nothing but think of Ann. His longing was forcing him to have momentary flashes of her, nothing more.

It was hard to convince that to himself, however. Not only had his smile looked awfully familiar to Jack, but now his acting as well. His style and passion for it resembled hers no less besides the fact that he didn't have the same talent to act out humor as she did. When he laughed, mocked, and attempted to pull off some great witty lines, he failed tremendously at it. But once he was given serious, dramatic scenes to play, he managed to do them impressively well and without tripping himself to mortification. The more and more he acted, the more Jack convinced himself that he had possibly crossed paths with the child of Ann Darrow. Not that he felt any comfort at all in knowing that she had moved on without him.

The audition was over and everyone was packing to go home. Robert was giving a few pointers to Kevin, though he carried a wide smile on his face. "You were amazing, boy! Definitely got the part, no doubt! We might have to work on the humor part a bit, but other than that, you are simply remarkable!" When the director finally left Kevin on his own, Jack purposely lingered after the others, watching him adjust a messenger bag on his shoulder and put a hat on. When he turned around and almost collided into Jack, he muttered a small "I'm sorry" under his breath and hurried to the exit.

"Wait."

Kevin stopped in his tracks and turned to Jack. "Yeah?" he asked.

"You were… you were really good up there tonight," said Jack, not knowing why he hadn't just jumped straight to the point and asked who the kid's mother was.

Kevin grinned. "Thanks, Mr. Driscoll," he said, his smile giving Jack a heavy heart as he was strongly reminded of Ann again. "I've been doing theatre my whole life."

"Really…" There was an awkward silence between the two, neither of them becoming aware of how alike they looked as they shifted in their position and searched for words to end the conversation properly. "Well…" Jack started, "surely you must have a last name. You can't be _just_ Kevin." Jack wanted to slap himself as he then noticed how his words sounded.

Kevin frowned, and seemed to be giving his statement a lot of thought.

"I didn't mean to sound intruding…" said Jack quickly. "You just… really reminded me of this actress I once worked with."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Driscoll, but no one else in my family's ever been related to the theatre," replied Kevin, perhaps a little too fast. He pulled down his hat to hide his green eyes and quickly left the theatre. But at least now Jack could breath a sigh of relief… the boy was not related to her, after all.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I know, I took a long time to update. But I just couldn't come up with a way to continue the story. I know how everything's gonna happen, I've got all the major things planned in my head, it's what's in-between I'm having trouble with. I had another, different scene I wanted to do for this chapter, taking place before the auditions and all, then I changed my mind and decided it wouldn't work out if it occurred right now, so now I'm saving it for a later chapter. As for the characters… I hope I keep them in-character from this point on, because it was hard writing Jack in this chapter. Not being able to see the movie King Kong whenever I please, it's been hard to remember how the characters really were and all… I'm waiting for the DVD to come out so I can refresh my memory. 

And as always, I appreciate the feedback. Thanks.

_- Lain Starks_


	4. Fingers Crossed

**A Parting Rose**

(Disclaimer in previous chapters)

Chapter 4: Fingers Crossed

* * *

"No, you're not getting it right. You have to sound natural. Have you ever even _laughed_ before in your life?"

"Yes, sir…"

"Well, laugh!"

At that, Kevin couldn't help but chuckle a bit at Robert's frustration, which only made Robert get frustrated even more.

"You're not taking this seriously!" the director cried.

"Yes, sir…" Kevin mumbled, suppressing his glee.

"Jeez," said Robert, turning to Maggie as Kevin worked on the scene again with the rest of the actors. "Never thought working with a kid could be so hard before."

"He's only eight, it's probably all games to him," replied Maggie.

"He's really good with the serious scenes, though," said Robert. "Hey, Driscoll, how about we throw in a couple more serious scenes there, leave out some of the humor?"

"Your call," replied Jack in an indifferent voice.

"Ha… ha, ha…"

"That's _still_ not right, boy!"

"Whoa, the boy's really getting to the director, isn't he?" An older teen paused by James as he worked on the stage lights. "But he's so good, everyone just has to deal with him…"

"I bet _I_ could nail the humor parts," replied James.

"Ha," said the dark-haired boy, snorting. "You've never acted before in your life, James."

"It's just laughing," said James, shrugging. "Can't be much more to it than that."

"Hmm… perhaps _you_ were looking forward to getting the part, James?"

"Shut up, John," hissed James. His eyes lowered as he resumed cleaning out the lenses on the lights. "I just thought… it'd probably be my chance or something. To prove I'm more than just the stupid boy who's always working backstage."

"James, you'll _always_ be the backstage boy," replied John, sneering. "C'mon, you have no talent in you. I don't, either, but hey… I was never into acting. Directing, maybe…"

"Then, suit yourself," snapped James, turning his eyes on John. "I can't believe some stupid eight-year-old has their attention… just look at the way they admire him…"

"You know, this is really sad, James," said John, walking away to work elsewhere. "Jealous of a small eight-year-old…"

"Whatever," muttered James, looking away from the stage and concentrating on cleaning the old stage lights again. "This is stupid…"

* * *

"That was really good, wasn't it?" said Kevin, leaving the old theatre with Jack by his side.

"You're going to drive Robert insane," muttered Jack.

Kevin's eyes lit up. "But he's so fun to mess with," he said. "He's so funny…"

"Do you even take this seriously?" asked Jack, looking down at Kevin curiously.

Kevin frowned. "Of course I do!" he said. "It's just… it's just so hard to do a natural laugh…"

He felt a quick poke in his ribs and giggled, knowing it was Jack. "See, not so hard," said Jack.

"I guess…" said Kevin, looking ahead. He spared a glance in Jack's direction when he wasn't looking, and smiled softly. They were now in their second week of rehearsal. Kevin had gotten used to all of the adults he had to work with at the theatre, but none of them had been as friendly to him as Jack was.

He realized they were nearing his home now, the apartment complex now only a few blocks away. He wondered about inviting the writer to his home, introduce his new friend to his mother. Although, she probably wouldn't like him being friends with an older man. He remembered the last time he told his mother that he played a game of hide-and-seek with an elder man before… she flipped, telling him how young children shouldn't so easily trust older people, especially strangers on the street. But the older man had been so nice… he had even offered Kevin a bit of candy if he would just allow the older man to catch him, but Kevin had never liked being tricked to losing.

He was a year older now… and now that he thought about it, that man didn't always have such a friendly face all the time… Kevin cringed, now realizing that his mother had probably been right about having played with a stranger without her supervision…

But Mister Driscoll was different, Kevin could see it. Maybe this time she wouldn't mind so much, not after she met him at least…

"Mister Driscoll…" he started to say, when suddenly he could hear his mother calling him. He stopped walking, looking around until he saw her waving at him from their window, three stories up.

"_Where_ _have you been?_ You've been out for three hours and without telling me where you were going first, what were you _thinking_—?" she stopped, realizing he was with company. "And who are you with? Kevin, if this is another 'friend' of yours…"

Kevin cringed; she was so mad already. "Sorry, Mister Driscoll, it's my mom…" he said to the writer, but Jack had also stopped in his tracks, deadly still.

Jack knew that voice. He couldn't see the woman very well from this distance, but he was sure of it…

"Kevin!" she cried again.

"Yeah, yeah, Mom, I got it!" cried Kevin in return. "I'll be there in a sec!" He turned around to face Jack. "Well, I gotta go now…" he said sheepishly, clearly embarrassed with having being yelled at in front of everyone who was there to see.

And then his mom grew very quiet too. He wasn't sure if there was something going on that he was unaware of, but very fast, his mother was gone from the window. It took a minute or two for her to reappear, leaving the apartment complex, hurrying the few blocks toward them.

As she got closer, Jack could definitely see. It _was_ Ann. The Ann he dreamed about almost every night, the one he had been dying to see again, even if only for a moment… An overwhelming feeling came to his chest then.

Ann stopped in front of them, her cheeks flushed from hurrying, panting. She pulled Kevin to her side, shielding him from Jack's view.

"Ann…?" Jack managed to say, but she cut him off immediately.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she said, glaring at him venomously, though her voice had cracked a little in her otherwise harsh voice.

"I…"

"Go away! Go away!" she cried, pulling back, tugging her son with her.

"Mom, what—?"

"I don't ever want to see you again! God, why are you here…?"

Kevin was able to look at Jack one last time before his mother fully dragged him inside the building with her. It confused him—the hard recognition in his eyes, the pain, the shock—and his mother's reaction to seeing Jack only confused him even more.

"I don't ever want to see you with that man again! Do you understand me?" cried Ann after they entered their room. "Do you understand me?"

"I…" Kevin started, so lost with everything that was happening. "I don't understand…"

"Just promise me you won't go walking around with that man again, okay?" Ann's voice had lowered, her hands now resting on Kevin's shoulders, quiet desperation in her voice. "Please… it's best this way…"

"Do you know him?" Kevin blurted out.

"Kevin, that's beside the point!" said Ann miserably, releasing her hold on him and turning away in frustration. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm herself down. She looked at her son again, standing there, so confused and hurt. "Please… I don't know why you were with him… but please, just promise me… you won't go seeing him again."

"Why…?"

"It's just…" Ann bent down so that she was eye-to-eye with Kevin. "Just trust your mother with this, all right? Will you promise me to stay away from that man?"

Kevin hesitated. He couldn't really comply with his mother's wishes, not with the play going on. Besides, Jack wasn't a bad person. He was his friend. He couldn't just ignore Jack. But he had seen on television once, how sometimes people who didn't really want to promise things crossed their fingers behind their backs so that the promise wouldn't really be a promise… And so he sneakily slid a hand behind his back, forcing a small smile for his mother.

"I promise, Mom."

Fingers crossed behind his back.

* * *

A/N: Yay, I've updated! I don't know, but I got to reading one of the chapters to this story out of boredom… and it somehow reignited my desire to finish this story. I used to have it all planned, but then I just started writing and writing, just letting out whatever came to mind… and suddenly, it wasn't quite headed where I had wanted it to go… So now, I'm just writing it with a few things in mind, but not really sure where things are going. Seems more fun writing this way, without having so many constraints holding me back while I'm writing. And Kevin's slowly slipping out of my control... I hadn't intended him to be quite so mischievous...

Chapter 5 will be out soon! (hopefully) :)


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